


Oh my baby don't cry

by alinewrites



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinewrites/pseuds/alinewrites





	Oh my baby don't cry

The little boy had fallen asleep in a pool of light among the cushions and the toys, hugging a black embroidered teddy bear – a gift she'd brought him back from one of her official visits.

She pushed away her datascreen and rested her chin on her joined hands to watch him, like she often did, her eyes softening. Finally she got up from her desk, walked up to the tiled terrace dominating the city and crouched near the little boy, brushing her manicured fingers against his sweaty locks, pushing them back and leaning further to kiss the baby's perfect mouth. He woke up at that and opened his eyes, brown irises with all the cleverness of the world in them – and so much love.

"Mummy," he said, and she nearly cried.

"My little god; my treasure; my jewel… My little man…"

He locked his arms around her neck and she lifted him. They stood like this for a minute or two, cuddling, then she started dancing across the room, humming an old song she'd heard years ago, twirling around, the little boy's laugh warm against her neck, her white silky dress murmuring with every move.

"I love you so much," she said.

And for a moment, she was able to forget the sorcerer's prophecy. She was able to forget that someday, when the baby would've turned into a young man, he'd walk out and meet some obscure delta grade who'd turn him against his mother.

She shivered, hugging him closer.

From the slums downtown an acid smoke was rising and she could smell the scent of the delta area burning; she could imagine people screaming, running – dying, caught in the explosion, troopers and mutoids walking through the ruins to find some survivors – and shoot them.

That was the first step, she thought. Soon there wouldn't be a single Delta left in this city; and her precious little boy would never walk out of the enchanting world of the presidential palace. She'd never see *that* look in his eyes, the look of hatred and disgust and absolute contempt that had been his father's last expression when she'd finally allowed him to die, alone in his prison cell.


End file.
